Some things that don’t
And some that matter
Your white sweater
Clinging, an oriental
Blanc de blanc
To you until unveiled
Or until the end
Of suffering by,
There is no way
To know how,
Among that which
Does not matter, by
His own hand.

There are times
And some without time.

Not watching
A newsreel
Because in watching,
Watching is something
That will not and wants
Not change.
Except, wanting parents,
That change, that now
They are gone.

Give me a gift.
Hold me when
You worry
Give me two gifts
Love me without
Feeling sorry.
I won’t ask for three
Though so many
There were to give.

RLB 01/30/2023

and an edit

Some things that don’t
And some that matter
Your white sweater
Clinging, a
Blanc de chine
To you until unveiled
Or until the end
Of suffering by,
There is no way
To know,
Among that which
Does not matter, by
His own hand, how.
There are times
And some without time.
Not watching
A newsreel
Because in watching,
Watching is something
That will not and wants
not change.
Except, wanting parents,
Only
that now
They are gone.
Give me a gift.
Hold me when
You worry
Give me two gifts
Love me without
Feeling sorry.
I won’t ask for three
Though so many
There were
Left to give.